


Gravity

by saintgenevieve



Series: In the Name of Love [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Childbirth, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hypnotism, I'm not good at tags, Magic, Magic-Users, Multi, Possible Character Death, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Threesome - F/F/M, kind of, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 18:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11446920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintgenevieve/pseuds/saintgenevieve
Summary: Sigyn, Princess of Vanaheim and Loki of Asgard probably shouldn't have gotten married so young, or married at all. But alliances last longer if there's a marriage involved. However, Sigyn has made a promise to herself that she will never love her husband, a promise she intends to keep no matter how charming Loki might be.All Thor really wants is for his brother to be happy...





	1. An Unfortunate Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I definitely don't own Marvel or any of their characters. I just really love the MCU.  
> I imagine my Sigyn being "played" by Freya Mavor. If you don't know who she is, I'd suggest looking her up. She's a pretty good actress.  
> This is the first semi-decent thing I'm publishing, so constructive criticism is much appreciated. I'll do my best to update at decent times. Not all the chapters will be super long, but I'll try to make them at least 1,000 words or so. The narrative will be split between first person and third person omniscient, probably.  
> Also, no one is editing this, so sorry about any possible spelling or grammar errors.

Princess Sigyn of Vanaheim, eldest daughter of Queen Freya the Beautiful, was decidedly not happy. Everyone in the room could see it. It was obvious from the stiffness of her shoulders, the haughty tilt of her head, the frown that graced her pink, bow-shaped lips. Anger rolled off her in waves; the tension between her and her mother was palpable.

Queen Freya, however, had the look of a cat who had gotten the cream. Her perfect lips were curved upwards in a smile that would have made most men fall head over heels in love, and her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. As livid as Sigyn was, Freya had exactly what she wanted, and nothing—not even her daughter’s heart—would get in her way.

“Are all the aspects of the treaty pleasing to you, Allfather?” Freya purred.

Odin sat upon his throne, looking every inch a king. “They are, my lady. Your daughter Sigyn and my son Loki shall be married at sunset tomorrow; Asgard and Vanaheim will be allied closer than ever before.”

Loki, who stood to his father’s left, looked just the tiniest bit queasy at the idea of marrying the beautiful, angry princess. But he would bow to his father’s will, as everyone in Asgard did.

The hall exploded into applause, the many witnesses cheering for the new alliance and the new opportunities it would bring. Even Loki’s mother looked pleased, though he knew she had no love for the Vanir Queen. Perhaps Frigga merely looked forward to the idea of the grandchildren Loki and Sigyn would provide her with—if the princess was willing. Loki would _not_ take an unwilling woman.

His eyes met hers, burning blue and narrowed in rage. At the moment, it seemed there would be no grandchildren for Frigga to spoil. It seemed that he would have trouble just getting her to speak to him, let alone taking her to bed. Why couldn’t she marry Thor instead?

 

“Because the people of Asgard would never accept a Vanir woman as their Queen,” Odin answered when Loki voiced that very question to his father. “Thor is the elder, so he is my heir. He must marry an Asgardian from one of the noble houses.”

“She hates me, Father, I can already tell. She looks at me like she’d slice my throat if given half a chance,” Loki protested, choking down his jealousy.  

Thor clapped his brother on the back and laughed. “If anyone can charm her, it’s you. They don’t call you golden-tongued for nothing, do they?”

“Do you not think her attractive, Loki?” Frigga chimed in.

The young prince heaved a sigh. “She is quite lovely, Mother, but I’d rather not be castrated on my wedding night. She doesn’t want this marriage. Isn’t it wrong to wed someone who hates the idea of you?”

“This is not just a marriage,” Odin explained patiently. “This is a way to cement the alliance between our realms. It is a permanent solution to a problem that has plagued Asgard for many years. You will marry her tomorrow, and I will hear no more of this!”

“Yes, Father.”

 

Sigyn destroyed the room they put her in. She shredded the tapestries and curtains, tore up the pillows, and upended all the movable furniture. She even used the sword her uncle had given her to decimate the bed, mattress and frame. She was furious and she refused to hide it. She would marry Loki, for her planet, because her mother told her to, but she would never surrender her body or her heart to him. Theirs would be a marriage colder than Jotunheim and she would never love him. _Never_.

She wasn’t usually prone to violence. The sword her uncle Freyr had given her, Spring Weaver, was mostly for show. When he’d placed it in her lap, he had proclaimed her his heir and the child of his heart. She had trained, of course, and could defend herself against any threat. But she was no warrior, nor did she want to be. And yet she was to marry into a war-mongering culture. Asgard, the Golden City, the Realm Eternal, full to the bursting of blood-thirsty conquerors.

Logically, Sigyn knew this thought wasn’t entirely fair. Queen Frigga was known to be wise and good, a sorceress of extraordinary power. The libraries, inside and outside of the palace, were some of the finest in the universe—though not better than those in Vanaheim. But she also knew that her aunt Gerda still had nightmares about when the Aesir had invaded Jotunheim and slaughtered her mother and sisters and brothers. Gerda was the only member of the royal family to escape slaughter besides her brother, King Laufey.

Poor, lovely Gerda, Freyr’s wife and Sigyn’s most beloved aunt. When Sigyn had left their hall, her aunt had kissed her forehead and told her not to be afraid, and that she loved her as though Sigyn was her own daughter. She had often wished it was so.

Especially on the night before her wedding. She wanted nothing more than to be home again, in Vanaheim, running through the golden fields and climbing the sweet-smelling trees in the orchards. She longed for her aunt and uncle, for the comfort of their presence and the warmth of their love. Queen Freya was worshiped by the humans as the goddess of love, but her heart was hard as a diamond and colder than ice. Sometimes, Sigyn hated her mother. She wondered what her mysterious, absent father would think of Freya selling her to Asgard.

Sigyn spent the night on the cold, unforgiving floor. Just before dawn she curled into a ball in a nest of ruined blankets and wished with all her heart that sunset would never come.

_I will never love Loki Odinson. I will never forgive my mother for making me marry him. Asgard will never be my home. I will never, ever love him. How could I ever love someone chosen for me?_


	2. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How did you convince me that drinking all night and well into the morning was a good idea on the day of my wedding, you terrible oaf?”

She woke around noon, aching and miserable. She staggered into the bathing room to relieve herself and wash her face. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she grimaced and snarled a Jotun curse Gerda had taught her.

There were dark circles under her blue eyes and her skin underneath her freckles was waxy and paler than usual. Her red-gold hair was a wild, tangled mess around her shoulders. Sigyn groaned and splashed cool water on her face. Well, at least she’d look as terrible as she felt for her impending wedding.

Spitefully, she hoped Loki was as miserable as she was. She hoped he was _suffering_.

 

As it so happened, Loki had been suffering all night.

“Another!” Thor roared, smashing his cup onto the table, making the various platters shake.

Loki groaned and covered his ears. “How did you convince me that drinking all night and well into the morning was a good idea on the day of my wedding, you terrible oaf?”

His brother gave a booming laugh and Loki wondered idly what the consequences would be if he stabbed him with a fork. Not anywhere that would cause permanent damage, just his arm or his ass…

“It’s a tradition! When I marry, we’ll drink for three days and nights without stopping!” Thor declared. 

The Warriors Three all laughed and toasted to their eventual Queen and their new Princess. But Loki noticed Sif’s eyes flashing with something that he could only describe as longing. He’d known for a while now that she fancied Thor, but he had never considered that she might be Queen someday.

_No. Thor might take her to bed someday, but he’ll never marry her. Thor likes a challenge, and Sif would be too easily won. She’s a fighter, but she wants him too much. Poor girl, she’ll have to watch him fall in love with someone else, or at the very least marry and have children with someone who isn’t her._

Loki ran his fingers through his dark hair and took a tentative bite of a piece of bread. He’d be lucky if he could keep anything down, considering how much he’d drunk the night before. His tolerance for alcohol still wasn’t quite as high as his brother’s.

He lowered his head to the table. “If I throw up on Sigyn, I swear by Yggdrasil, I will murder you, Thor. Slowly and painfully.”

Someone snorted. Loki’s eyes were closed, so he didn’t see who it was. He didn’t particularly care. Some small, soft part of him hoped Sigyn’s night had been better than his. She was probably going to unhappy for the rest of her life, no matter what he did, so he prayed her last night of freedom had been peaceful, at least.  

 

Frigga didn’t knock, merely entered Sigyn’s room, several women trailing behind her. She was somewhat startled by the destruction that had been wreaked on the chamber, the fury that must have fueled her son’s bride. She heard a few muffled gasps behind her, and suddenly wished that she’d come on her own first.

Sigyn sat on the floor, a sword in her lap. She looked very fierce, Frigga mused. A Valkyrie about to charge into battle. She lifted her eyes to the Queen and swallowed hard.

“Is it time? Do I have to get ready?” Her voice was heavy with resignation.

Something inside Frigga, the part of her that had always longed for a daughter, cracked a little bit. “Put the gown and the supplies on the…bed. Then leave us.”

The women complied, closing the door behind them and leaving the Princess and the Queen alone.

Frigga knelt and put her arms around the girl, pity curling in the pit of her stomach. Sigyn shuddered and choked out a sob before relaxing into her embrace.

“There, there, sweet girl. It’s alright. It will be alright.” Frigga stroked her hair and murmured nonsense to her until she eventually pulled away.

Sigyn sniffled, and Frigga was sharply reminded just how young she was. Only a century old and about to be married.

“I’m sorry about the room,” the Princess said softly. “It was…petty of me.”

“Don’t fret about it. We have more rooms than we know what to do with. It’s no great loss.”

“I’m not used to being so full of rage,” Sigyn admitted. “I just hate that my right to choose is being taken from me.”

Frigga sighed. “I am sorry that you don’t have a choice. And that you’re both so young. But I promise Loki won’t hurt you. He’s a sweet boy. He’ll treat you with kindness.”

“Maybe. But he’s still being forced on me. You wouldn’t understand; yours is a love story known across the nine realms. How can I love him when marrying him means surrendering my freedom?”

“I’m sorry,” Frigga said again, unable to formulate an appropriate response. “Shall we get you dressed?”

Sigyn stood and shrugged. “Why not?”

It wasn’t a promising start.

 

She looked beautiful. Sigyn hated to admit it, would never say it out loud, but she truly looked beautiful. Frigga had managed to brush her hair until it shined and then wrangle it into an elegant up-do. The gown itself was a little harder to navigate.

First her breasts were wrapped loosely with white linen, then Frigga helped her arrange the golden breast-plate—which seemed a little absurd, but the Aesir do love their armor. Next came the trailing, lily-white skirt, and then a cloak of deep green. Frigga slid a golden armlet over each arm, and then added golden bangles. Finally, she arranged a shining headpiece that seemed to defy all the laws of physics upon Sigyn’s hair.

Sigyn’s entire midriff was visible, the breastplate stopping about an inch below her breasts and the skirt starting an inch below her bellybutton. She thought that the whole ensemble was a little too much, but her mother had probably approved it without consulting her. She usually preferred something with less armor and slightly more coverage. She wasn’t opposed to showing her stomach, but in this ridiculous dress she was exposed to all of Asgard. There was nothing she could hide.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I based Sigyn's wedding outfit off of this post (http://nanihoosartblog.tumblr.com/post/122010656612/when-im-too-tired-to-focus-on-anything-else-i) by Nanihoo. Check out her blog because all of her art is amazing.


	3. Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I turned to Loki and let him take my hands. It was the first time we had ever touched. His skin was cool and his long fingers closed surprisingly gently around mine.

When I was a little girl, my mother told me that love was pain. That to give your heart to someone else was to make yourself vulnerable, and the biggest mistake anyone could ever make. She’d been married before I was born, to a man who was my brother’s father but not mine. He died. Though she’d had many more children, my mother never married again.

“Are you ready, Sigyn?”

I turned to Freya, careful not to unbalance my headpiece. “If I say no, will you still make me marry him?”

She scowled at me, her exquisite mouth twisting. “You are marrying into one of the most powerful families in the universe,” she hissed. “You should be thanking me for arranging your good fortune.”

“You are banishing me from my home and selling me to Asgard like a horse! I will _never_ thank you for this.”

“Fine. Now smile.”

I smiled and wished I was somewhere else.

My mother wound her arm through mine and together we walked into the great hall of the palace. It was even more crowded than it had been yesterday, if that was possible. All of Asgard had come to see me give my freedom away.

Odin sat upon his throne, Frigga standing to his right and Thor to his left. At the foot of the stairs to the dais was Loki, dressed—like me—in white and gold and green. He was smiling, looking every inch the triumphant prince. I hated him for it.

Banners hung from the vaulting ceiling and flower petals fluttered on the wind. The whole world smelled of roses and iron. The floor was cold beneath my bare feet—it was a Vanir custom for the bride to not wear shoes, since most of the weddings took place outside. I had decided to follow that tradition, a little rebellion against my husband’s own customs.

The walk down the aisle took ages, the various nobles of Asgard gawking at me, watching every step. I kept my head up and did my best to pretend they weren’t there.

_They don’t matter, none of them. I am a Princess and they are nothing. I can do this. I can smile and pretend and pledge myself to Loki. I will not let them see the havoc this wreaks on me. No one will ever know._

My mother and I reached the foot of the dais and she pressed a kiss to my cheek before taking her place in the crowd. I wanted to run, to scream and kick and claw my way back to my home. But I didn’t; instead I turned to Loki and let him take my hands.

It was the first time we had ever touched. His skin was cool and his long fingers closed surprisingly gently around mine.

Odin knocked the butt of his spear against the floor, the sound echoing through the air. “Speak your vows,” he commanded, standing.

“I, Loki, Prince of Asgard, take you, Sigyn Freyadottir, as my wife. I vow you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine, and from this day it shall only be your name I cry out in the night and into your eyes that I smile each morning; I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine; no grievous word shall be spoken about us, for our marriage is sacred between us and no stranger shall hear my grievance. Above and beyond this, I will cherish and honor you through this life and into the next,” he said, his voice clear and sure.

I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I, Sigyn, Princess of Vahaheim, take you, Loki Odinson, as my husband. I vow you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine, and from this day it shall only be your name I cry out in the night and into your eyes that I smile each morning; I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine; no grievous word shall be spoken about us, for our marriage is sacred between us and no stranger shall hear my grievance. Above and beyond this, I will cherish and honor you through this life and into the next.”  

Odin struck the ground with his spear once more. “I proclaim you, Loki Odinson, and you, Sigyn Freyadottir, to be married, so long as you both shall live.”

Tears pricked at my eyes and my cheeks ached from smiling. But I kept my façade as the crowd cheered. Thor came down and clapped his brother on the back, and then kissed both my cheeks and called me sister.

Frigga embraced me. “I wish you joy, child. I hope you will find it here,” she whispered, adjusting my cloak.

I nodded to her and sought my own mother out through the crush of people. She hadn’t moved, and was watching Odin, her face full of an almost vicious triumph. I had never felt more alienated from her.

 

The feast lasted from just after the ceremony until dawn, or so I was told. I left after only an hour, retiring to my new chambers—the rooms I would share with Loki. As a married couple, we would now share everything. Including a bed.

I let a maid help me out of the—still ridiculous—breastplate and then dismissed her with a quiet _thank you_. I unwound the cloth from around my breasts, and let the skirt join the cloak on the floor. I laid the bracelets and the armlets on a table, beside the golden headpiece, and pulled the pins from my hair.

Finding one of the chests I had brought with me from Vanaheim, I shuffled through it until I found a plain shift to sleep in. I also retrieved a dagger, just in case.

Loki came to the room—our room—sometime after midnight. He glanced at me, where I sat on the bed with the knife in my lap, and heaved a weary sigh.

“Are you planning on slitting my throat, wife?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not _you_ plan on fucking me, husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you can see, this chapter was written in first person and from Sigyn's perspective. I'll only do first person if it's from Sigyn's POV and if I feel like it. I wanted the wedding to be from her point of view first.   
> The wedding vows are from this website: https://www.documentsanddesigns.com/vows-and-verses/celtic-wedding-vows-and-celtic-blessings/  
> For those of you who might be a little worried, there will be no sex in the next few chapters. Loki might be okay with murder, but he doesn't seem like he'd be okay with rape.


	4. Trials of a Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you planning on slitting my throat, wife?”
> 
> “That depends.”
> 
> “On what?”
> 
> “On whether or not you plan on fucking me, husband.”

Loki had been almost too nervous to eat anything. Sigyn sat beside him, her face schooled into careful contentment. She ate slowly, purposefully not looking at him. He could practically taste her resentment, and he couldn’t blame her.

Their marriage hadn’t exactly been his idea, but at least he wasn’t the one being forced to live in a foreign court, away from everyone and everything he loved. He didn’t know Sigyn; the first words they’d ever spoken to each other were their wedding vows. How was he supposed to build a relationship from that, especially if his wife hated him?

“I think I will retire now, my lord,” Sigyn said formally.

“As you wish. I’ll see you later.”

When she flinched, he almost wished he hadn’t said anything. Sigyn swept from the dining hall without another glance at him, a maidservant trailing behind her. _Am I going to spend the rest of my life guilty? Will she spend the rest of her life loathing me?_

Thor, of course, had already shattered four cups by the time Sigyn left, and cajoled Loki into joining him in the grand Asgardian tradition of copious drinking when she was gone. He did his best not to get too carried away; he wanted to be sober enough to defend himself on the off chance that she would try to kill him. He’d seen the damage she did to the chamber she’d spent the night in.

“Do you look forward to your wedding night?” Thor teased, grinning.

Loki shrugged and reached for nonchalance. “I don’t think we’ll be consummating anytime soon. Did you see the look she gave me? She’ll kill me before she submits.”

Sif looked up sharply. “Would you force her?”

Disgust roiled through him at the idea. “I would never force _any_ woman. She’s my wife, not my horse. I will not hurt her,” he said firmly.

“What will you do then?” Fandral asked. “You’re sharing a chamber, and a bed.”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself until she decides she doesn’t hate me.”

 

Loki slipped away around the hundredth toast, wanting nothing more than quiet and sleep. Would his wife permit him to sleep in the bed, or would he have to take the floor? He half-hoped she was already asleep.

He entered the room, bolting the door behind him out of habit. He was bone tired, but one look at his new wife told him he wouldn’t be sleeping for a while yet.

“Are you planning on slitting my throat, wife?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not _you_ plan on fucking me, husband.”

Loki snorted. “Are you unwilling, Sigyn Freyadottir?”

“Yes,” she answered, squaring her shoulders as though preparing for a blow.

“Then I’m not going to fuck you. It’s as simple as that.”

Sigyn narrowed her eyes. Loki had to admit that she was truly beautiful. Seeing her in his colors, walking towards him with a—obviously fake—smile on her freckled face had made his heart pound against his ribs. And her lips… _Norns_ , he wanted to touch her lips, see if they were as soft as they looked. He’d only met her that day, only touched her once, but there was something electric between them.

 _Does she feel it too?_ Judging from her glare, the apparent answer to his unasked question was a resounding ‘no.’

“I don’t believe you.”

Loki scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s the truth,” he offered, unclasping his green cloak from his shoulders and letting it join her wedding clothes on the floor.

She tensed. “Then why are you undressing?”

He rolled his eyes. “Do the Vanir sleep in all their finery?”

“No.”

“Well, neither do we. I usually prefer to sleep without any clothes at all, but for your comfort, my lady, I’ll keep my pants on.”

“Do not mock me,” Sigyn snarled.

“I mock everyone. Why should you be any different?”

She stood, drawing herself up to her full height. “I am Princess of Vanaheim.”

“And I’m a Prince of Asgard. Titles don’t matter when it’s just the two of us. You may speak to me however you please, and I’ll do the same.”

He continued to undress, kicking off his boots and shedding his shirt. By the time he was done, she had sat down on the bed again and the dagger was gone. He felt slightly relieved.

“I will never love you,” Sigyn said, her voice soft and somewhat sad.

Loki winced, though he’d known something like this was coming. “Is there someone else?”

She shook her head. “No. But I cannot love someone who was chosen for me, someone who was practically forced on me. I hadn’t even spoken to you before today!”

“I know,” he said with a sigh.

“I won’t love you, Loki, and I will not lie with a man I don’t love.”

Her husband knelt before her and very carefully took her hands in his, an odd parody of their vows. “Sigyn, I will treat you with kindness in the hopes that we can be friends. If we are to spend the rest of our lives together, it would be easier if you didn’t hate me. But I _will not_ force you to consummate our marriage, not this night or any of those to come. I swear upon my own life.”

She watched him for a moment, caught between hope and disbelief.

“Do you believe me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He smiled and rose, releasing her hands from his grasp. “Would you allow me to sleep beside you, wife?”

“Yes,” she answered cautiously, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

They spent the rest of the night in silence, lying as far apart as possible. Loki was beyond grateful that she didn’t start weeping into her pillow, though he supposed that she wouldn’t be that type of woman. Sigyn had greeted him with a dagger and harsh words on their wedding night. She’d set boundaries between them, taking control of the situation with a strength that impressed him more than he would ever admit.

So, she didn’t love him. That wasn’t a particularly great loss. Not every match was successful and political alliances were far more important than feelings. He didn’t need her to love him, had never wanted a wife or been interested in chasing girls. It wasn’t that he didn’t like girls, he did, but he wasn’t Thor. Who would want Loki when they could have his older brother, heir to the throne and great warrior?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that chapter was fun. I wrote it to avoid studying, which was a mistake, but I think it's pretty solid.


	5. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t need you to take care of me,” I threw over my shoulder.
> 
> “I’m well aware,” he said wryly. “But will you forgive me if I try?”

_“Sigyn, dear heart, what are you doing?”_

_I looked up from the bowl of water and smiled at my aunt. “Scrying, like Uncle Freyr taught me.”_

_Gerda knelt beside me, her dark hair slipping over her shoulder as she leaned over the still face of the water. In the reflection, I could see all the ways we were different. Her skin was blue, her hair dark, her eyes the deep red of fine wine, while I was pale and fair. But I had always thought her beautiful, even though there were many who said she was not._

_“Are you looking for something in particular?”_

_I shook my head. “No. Just looking.”_

_She sat back on her heels, pulling me with her. “You must be careful not to let your soul wander too far, little one. The paths of the universe can be dangerous if you lose your way.”_

_I put my arms around her, and she tucked my head beneath my chin. “I’m always careful.”_

_She laughed and kissed the top of my head. “Sweet girl, you are as reckless as they come. You’re as bad as your uncle, and you know exactly how he is. Come now, we should get you ready for bed.”_

_I let her pull me up and help me into a sleeping shift. “Tell me the story again?”_

_“You always ask me for that. Don’t you want to hear a different tale?”_

_I shook my head fervently as she tucked me under the fur blankets._

_“Very well.” She took a deep breath and began. “I was born on the icy world of Jotunheim, the daughter of a great King. But, unlike my brothers and sisters, I was small. Weak and stunted, the size of an Aesir child. Had I not been a princess I would have been cast out into the unforgiving cold, but my father saw a use for me. He arranged my marriage to your uncle, Prince Freyr of Vanaheim. After all, he thought, we would be the same size and I would be happier somewhere warm, able to live easily._

_“When I was two-hundred years old, he sent me to Vanaheim for the first time to meet my future husband. We wouldn’t be wed until I was at least five centuries old, or so it was planned. Despite our differences, Freyr and I fell deeply in love. Your uncle is quite the charmer, Sigyn. I visited every few years, wishing more and more each time that I could stay and start my life with him._

_“But then, sadly, my father died and my brother Laufey was made King of Jotunheim. He was greedy, always had been, and made war on defenseless Midgard. As you know, Odin and you mother, Freya, joined forces to defeat Laufey’s armies and drive them back into Jotunheim. But the bloodshed didn’t stop there. Asgard and Vanaheim’s warriors flooded my home, and even broke the gates of the palace. In the ensuing struggle, my mother and most of my siblings were slaughtered. I would have met the same fate, but Freyr had heard my screams and recognized my voice. He killed the men who had murdered my family and took me back to Vanaheim, sickened by the bloodshed we had witnessed. He wed me, against Freya’s wishes and to the disgruntlement of many.”_

_“And you lived happily ever after?” I cut in, yawning._

_“Yes, beloved one. Sleep now.”_

 

When I woke, I half expected to be back in my uncle’s hall, my aunt leaning over me to press a kiss to my forehead and urge me to greet the new day. But I was in Asgard. And I was married.

I sat up, keeping my movements slow and small.

“I’m already awake, so there’s no need for you to be so cautious.”

I winced. “How long have you been awake?”

“About an hour.”

I turned to my husband and looked him over. He was lying on his back, dark hair mussed from sleep, eyes still closed. “And you didn’t get up?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you. You seemed like you needed the rest.”

“You don’t know me.”

“No, but I know what exhaustion looks like.”

I stood and crossed the room to a table that held a wash-basin and a mirror. I picked up a silver comb and began to run it through my hair. I was still tired, and somewhat heartsick, but I wasn’t about to admit it. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” I threw over my shoulder.

“I’m well aware,” he said wryly. “But will you forgive me if I try?”

My eyes met his in the mirror. “Why?” I asked bluntly.

He shrugged. “You’re alone, in a strange place, and I am now your husband. I want you to be happy, or, at the very least, content. I promised to be the shield at your back, Sigyn.”

“Words are wind and promises made by men are easily broken.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bleak idea.”

I turned to him and leaned against the table. “It’s one of the few things my mother actually taught me.”

“What else did she teach you?” he asked, drawing me into a conversation.

“How to smile, how to move to make people’s eyes follow, how to trick someone into believing you love them. What has your mother taught you?”

“Magic tricks, mostly. Little things to make up for the fact that I’m not a warrior like my brother…and never will be.” There was something bitter in his voice.

“It’s hard living in his shadow, isn’t it?”

He let out a breath. “You have no idea.”

I gave him a little smile. “When I was five years old, my mother sent me to be raised by my aunt and uncle because she didn’t like having me always underfoot. But she always coddled my older brother.”

Loki snorted. “The heir is always the favorite.”

“Indeed. Though I will admit, I’m glad not to be married to Thor.”

“Truly?”

“I don’t like to lie. And anyway, even as young as he is, he’s gained quite the reputation. Despite what you may think, not all women want a mighty warrior for a husband. Some prefer scholars or farmers.”

“And what do you want, Sigyn?” he asked earnestly, leaning forward.

“I don’t know. No one has ever bothered to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first part of this chapter is a flashback to when Sigyn was younger. She dreams of a simpler time. I'm really looking forward to exploring her relationship with Loki, and her eventual friendship with Thor.  
> Check out this super cool clip from The White Queen, featuring Freya Mavor as Elizabeth of York. This is the scene that made me see her as my version of Sigyn: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-q_V9D_ALB4


	6. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Has she tried to castrate you yet?” Thor grinned at his brother. “You did say that was a concern.”
> 
> “Ha. No, she hasn’t tried to do me any bodily harm. But it’s only been three months, so there’s still a chance for things to go horribly wrong.” Loki took a drink. “I like her, when she’s not being sullenly quiet or wrathful. She’s quite clever.”

“So how is married life so far?” Fandral asked from across the table, sliding a full mug of ale toward Loki.

“Well enough.”

“Has she tried to castrate you yet?” Thor grinned at his brother. “You did say that was a concern.”

“Ha. No, she hasn’t tried to do me any bodily harm. But it’s only been three months, so there’s still a chance for things to go horribly wrong.” Loki took a drink. “I like her, when she’s not being sullenly quiet or wrathful. She’s quite clever.”

“And beautiful,” Volstagg added around a mouthful of cheese. “Almost as beautiful as her mother. Norns, but Queen Freya is breathtaking.”

Loki shrugged. “Sigyn and her mother don’t get along very well. She was raised by Prince Freyr in his hall, Noatun.”

“Wasn’t it Freyr who married a Frost Giant?” Fandral inquired.

Hogun raised a hand. “I would not suggest speaking ill of the Lady Gerda in the hearing of any of the Vanir. Despite her birth, she is a good woman and a loyal wife. I hear that she and Sigyn are quite close.”

“But a Jotun for a wife? Can you imagine taking such a thing to bed?” Volstagg’s face twisted in disgust.

Loki shrugged. “From what Sigyn tells me, Freyr is very devoted to her. Theirs is a love match.”

Sif made a noise of revulsion. “How could he bear to love a monster?”

A plate shattered somewhere behind Loki and he knew even before he turned that Sigyn had caught the last part of their conversation. _She is going to murder Sif. My wife is going to decimate her._

Sif stood and faced the Princess, raising a dark eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to say…Your Highness?”

“Only that if you insult my aunt again, I’ll rip out your entrails and hang you with them,” Sigyn said sweetly, only her eyes betraying her rage.

“Your…aunt is a Frost Giant, a monster and a murderer, like all her kind.”

“Gerda of Jotunheim is the most wonderful woman who has ever lived. She is kind and good and undeserving of your antagonism. You’ve never even met her; you’ve never met any of the Frost Giants. And anyway, it’s you Asgardians who are the monsters.”

Thor’s face went very red, but Loki stopped him from standing with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve seen the scars on my aunt’s body,” Sigyn snarled. “I’ve heard her screams as she wakes from nightmares. The Aesir slaughtered children, _innocent children_ , before her very eyes and then mutilated her and left her bleeding beside the corpses of her mother and siblings. The Frost Giants may not be innocent, but most of the people of that world would _never_ harm a child. But you Asgardians justify your brutality by calling them monsters and pretending that you’re better than them. You’re not.”

And with that she stormed from the mostly-empty hall, her long skirts trialing behind her.

Hogun grinned, trying not to laugh at the expressions of flabbergasted anger on the Asgardian’s faces. He’d only been with them for a few years, and he did like his friends, but sometimes they could be downright asses. “I told you the Princess was close to her aunt. Sif, I would advise you not to pick another fight with her. She’ll eat you alive.”

“She can try,” Sif growled.

 

Sigyn didn’t go back to the chamber she shared with Loki, nor did she go to the gardens or the library. Instead, she donned a plain cloak, glamoured her hair into a less-distinctive color, and went out into the city. She’d seen Asgard briefly on the way to the palace, but she hadn’t had a chance to really explore it. There was a reason they called it the Golden City.

There were so many people, of all ages and sizes, all of them bustling busily on their way from somewhere to anywhere else. She wandered through the great marketplace, passing stalls selling everything from silk and jewelry to enchanted weapons to ancient tomes to roasted meats. It reminded her a little of the sprawling capital city of Vanaheim.

And eventually, after several hours of wandering, she made her way to the Bifrost Observatory.

“Good evening, Princess Sigyn.”

She grinned at Heimdall. “Hello. How goes the watch?”

“Well, my lady. The stars continue to shine and all is calm. How are you?”

She sighed and sat down on one of the steps leading to the control platform. “I can’t say that I particularly like any of Loki’s friends. Or his brother. Asgardians don’t think before they speak, and have no respect.”

“That is true,” he rumbled. “Thor and his companions are young, though, like you, and will become better in time. You must be patient if you wish to find happiness.”

Sigyn rolled her eyes. “You sound like Freyr.”

The Watchman granted her a small smile. “Who do you think told him that in the first place?”

She snorted. “Of course, it was you.”

“And do you like being married?” he asked. 

“Loki is not as unbearable as I’d feared.”

Heimdall quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m not in love with him, nor will I ever be.”

The other eyebrow came up.

 

The stars were out by the time she slipped through the door and let her cloak drop to the floor. Loki didn’t berate her or demand to know where she was. Instead, he asked her if she was alright and apologized for Sif’s rudeness.

“It’s fine,” she said, letting her hair return to its usual color and moving to wash her face.

“I thought you didn’t like to lie.”

Sigyn didn’t bother to respond. She tugged at the laces of her gown, her back to her husband, trying to ignore the weight of his stare. She snarled a curse as the cords became hopelessly tangled.

Loki’s quick, clever fingers nudged hers aside, and the back of the dress parted to reveal creamy skin. He moved away and sat down on the bed, facing the wall while she pulled on a shift.

“Truth is part of my power,” she said abruptly as the bed dipped with her weight.

He turned to face her. “I don’t think I understand.”

“I can tell when people are lying…and when they’re telling the truth. When someone is being dishonest, their words sound wrong somehow. It doesn’t hurt me to lie, it just sounds strange in my ears,” Sigyn explained softly.

“I didn’t know.”

She shrugged. “Not many do. It’s not exactly the most convenient ability, especially where politics are concerned.”

“So why tell me?” he asked, curious.

“I suppose I trust you.”

Loki grinned.

“Though you should warn your friends that if they insult my aunt again, I’ll destroy them.”

“Fair enough.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter actually gave me some trouble, but I enjoyed writing it. I'm having a lot of fun with this story and I hope you guys are too.


	7. Interlude: Somewhere in the Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn's influence on humanity.

On a small blue planet, a boy is born. He is small and sickly; he struggles for each breath he takes. But his mother loves him in spite of his sickness, so she nurses him and sings and prays to the gods to help him. She appeals to Odin and Thor to make her son strong, to Frigga to shield him. And, miraculously, he lives. He grows.

He is still small, even after almost twenty winters, but he’s resilient. And one day, the boy meets a girl. She’s the most beautiful girl in the world—or so he thinks—with hair the color of honey and eyes bright as stars. When she smiles, she outshines the sun itself. He falls in love with her, and she with him.

But he is unworthy of her, frail as he is. So he leaves the land of his birth to prove himself, promising the girl that he will return and make her his bride. The boy takes nothing but a rusty sword that had been his father’s, a threadbare cloak, and a cracked wooden shield. He wanders, hoping the gods will bless his quest and guide him on his journey.

Almost a year later, he sits in a dank cave, huddled close to a meagre fire. He shivers and shakes, knowing that he will not survive the frigid night without divine intervention. When he lies down on the dusty ground, the boy thinks of the girl and the joy they might have had. Aloud, he curses the gods that made him feeble and small. He profanes fate’s cruelty and hopes that he will be with his beloved in Hel.

In the morning, the boy is still alive. And he is not alone.

The woman looks young, but the boy has heard enough of his mother’s stories that he knows looks can be deceiving. She’s beautiful, though, and her eyes are kind. She smiles at him and he feels suddenly warm.

“You’re very brave, aren’t you?”

“I believe stubborn and foolhardy would be more honest,” he answers.

The woman—who he somehow knows is a goddess—laughs. “I have always appreciated honesty. Tell me, if I could give you anything, what would you ask for?”

“I would ask to be worthy of the one I love,” the boy confesses without hesitation. “To be strong enough to protect her and provide for her.”

She holds out a drinking horn full of golden mead. “Drink. Drink and you will be all you hope for and more.”

He takes horn between his hands, feeling the warm slosh of the liquid, and does as the goddess commands.

When the boy returns to the village, he is broad-shouldered and a head taller than anyone else; his sword is no longer rusting, his shield is no longer cracked. The girl has waited for him, and they are married that summer. Their sons are great heroes and their daughters are healers and wise women.

The boy—a man now—tells his children the story, and they, in their turn, tell it to their children. And for years uncounted, his descendants praise the goddess Sigyn, Lady of Truth and Fidelity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a little different, but it was just stuck in my head and I had to get it out. Obviously, it's in present tense instead of past--which is my usual--but I just felt like that was what this little nugget needed. I really hope you guys like it. If you do, I might do a couple more of these.


	8. The Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What could Thor possibly want?”
> 
> Heimdall shrugged. “Perhaps you should ask him.”
> 
> “I’d rather just hide in the library until he loses interest. At least then I know he won’t find me.”

“How was Midgard?”

“It was lovely, Heimdall. Cold and dark, but lovely.”

“Your brother-in-law is looking for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “What could Thor possibly want?”

Heimdall shrugged. “Perhaps you should ask him.”

“I’d rather just hide in the library until he loses interest. At least then I know he won’t find me.”

Heimdall’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. I was quite impressed by his self-control, considering I had close to none.

“And the mortal?”

“I gave him some of Idunn’s mead, laced with a little magic, and put spells on his weapons. He will be father to a line of great heroes, or so I saw in my scrying bowl.”

“Is that why you chose him?”

“Of course not. I chose him because even though he was small and weak, he didn’t let it stop him from being brave. He was willing to do whatever it took to be worthy of the woman he loved, even accept a strange drink from a supposed goddess.”

“He and his children will build shrines to you, Sigyn. For a thousand years, they will bless your name,” he said, a little bit of a warning in his tone.

“I don’t care about that. Some might like to be worshiped, but I just wanted to help someone who deserved it. He and his will make Midgard a better place.”

“We’re not supposed to interfere.”

I snorted. “That’s an Asgardian rule. I am Princess of Vanaheim, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I have not, my lady.”

“Well then, you know that I’ve not broken any laws.”

“Your husband is of Asgard.”

“My husband does not rule me, guardian. And it won’t end well for him if he ever tries.”

“You have lived here for almost a decade.”

I gave him a sharp look. “Asgard will never be my home.”

“As you say, my lady.”

I left the Observatory, moving across the Rainbow Bridge without really thinking about it. I slipped through the streets, my mind on the mortal I had helped and ways to evade Thor for another week.

_I don’t even know his name. That boy will honor me for as long as he lives and I never asked for his name. I should have asked. Why didn’t I ask? Is Heimdall right? Do I want to be worshiped? My mother goes to Midgard often, to perform miracles and be adulated. She loves it, as much as she is capable of loving anything. I’m so lonely here; I long for something to fulfill me. Am I going to become Freya? Incapable of true love and viciously ambitious? Has she succeeded into making me her?_

I reached the palace and entered the great hall—

“Sigyn!”

I halted and heaved a great sigh. So much for avoiding Thor. “Good evening, my lord.” He offered me his arm and I took it, knowing that I was doomed to an unpleasant conversation no matter what I did.

“I heard that you went to Midgard again,” he said, his voice somewhat reproaching.

“I did. I like humans, their simplicity and their impermanence. I find them most compelling.”

“Perhaps your time would be better spent here.”

I leveled my iciest glare at him. “Do you presume to command me, brother?”

“Do you need commanding, sister?”

“Do you need your cock?” I asked sweetly.

He flinched and I took it as a victory. “Did you know,” I continued conversationally, “that my mother has banished me from Vanaheim? She has decreed that I cannot go home until I have conceived a child with my husband. I go to Midgard because it is green and wild and reminds me of my beloved home, a home I may never return to since I won’t fuck someone I don’t love.”

Thor was speechless, so I pulled away and left him to his thoughts.

 

Loki didn’t say anything as he entered our room, just poured himself a cup water and flopped down onto the low couch in the corner. He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling, silent and irate.

I ignored him as best as I could, knowing that he’d speak when he was ready and not before. Everyone assumed that he always knew just what to say, that he always had a witty retort and a prank up his sleeve. But that wasn’t true at all. Though he did think quickly on his feet, when he wanted to be eloquent he had to mull it over. Words were his weapon of choice, and sometimes he needed time to find the right ones. It was one of the things I liked best about him, he thought before he spoke.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Why didn’t you tell me that you can’t go home?” There was something pained in his voice.

I turned away from him, facing our window. “It wasn’t your burden to bear,” I said softly. “And there’s nothing you can do to help.”

“Sigyn—“

“Please, don’t. Not tonight.”

I knew that he was swallowing down all the words he wanted to say, forcing them to dissipate until I was ready to hear them. Something akin to adoration bloomed in my chest. It was hard not to care for someone after living together for ten years.

“Sigyn,” he said again, my name a caress, “would you let me hold you?”

I took a deep breath and considered my choices. _Say no and keep the carefully cultivated distance between us. Keep my heart safe, keep myself apart, keep the walls up. Say no and he won’t try again for another decade at least. Say no and maybe he’ll give up._

_Or say yes and build something new, something that has the potential to be good. Be open, be trusting, be the opposite of everything my mother is. Say yes and be like Freyr, brave and tender. Say yes and let him shower me with devotion, let him make me happy. Say yes and let myself fall. Maybe he could teach me how to fly._

“Yes,” I whispered, turning towards him. He had crossed the room while my back was turned and we were very close. I knew this was a turning point, a crucial moment in our lives and in our marriage.

He put his arms around me and drew me close. He smelled like mint and pine and snow, like a forest in winter. I closed my eyes and breathed him in, let myself relax in the circle of his arms. I could hear the beating of his heart, the whisper of his breath, the way his blood sang in his veins. It was electric and comforting and wonderful.

_Asgard will never be my home…but maybe Loki could be…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooooo! Get it, Sigyn! Leave your cynicism behind and find happiness. Ha. Just kidding. There's still a whole lot to deal with. Mommy issues, anyone?


	9. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly, so slowly, she wrapped her arms around his torso and let her head rest in the junction of his neck and shoulder. Her breath raised goosebumps on his skin. He wondered if this was what love was supposed to feel like. He’d have to ask his mother.

She was warm, so warm and soft, and she smelled like honey and lavender, a garden in summer when everything’s blooming and bees bumble from flower to flower and all the herbs smell sweet. Loki wanted very much to kiss Sigyn, but he wasn’t sure if she was ready yet. He had to let her come to him. He had to be patient.

Slowly, so slowly, she wrapped her arms around his torso and let her head rest in the junction of his neck and shoulder. Her breath raised goosebumps on his skin. He wondered if this was what love was supposed to feel like. He’d have to ask his mother.

“Why haven’t we done this before?” Sigyn asked, warm and easy.

He stroked her back, delighting in the strength of her heartbeat and the feeling of having her so close. “I don’t think you were ready, sweetheart.”

He tensed at the endearment that slipped from his lips, but she didn’t react except to tighten her hold on him. “I still don’t love you,” she said, her voice heavy with regret.

“That’s alright.” And it was. “Love comes with time. That’s what my mother always says.”

Sigyn laughed a little. “Your mother is very wise. I think I like her more than my own.”

“Your mother is a malicious bitch, so I don’t blame you.”

His wife pulled away with a smile. “I’m tired. Would you help me with my dress? I always get hopelessly tangled.”

Loki grinned. “Anything for you, Sigyn.”

She rolled her eyes and turned around. Loki swept her hair aside and carefully unlaced her dress, letting his fingers brush over her skin with each movement. Sigyn leaned back into his touch with a sigh. When the last of the laces were undone, he dropped a light kiss onto the nape of her neck.

She twisted, cupped his face between her hands, and pressed her mouth to his. Her lips were as soft as he’d always imagined and she tasted of apples. His hands pressed into her bared skin and he pulled her closer. Her mouth opened under his and she made a sweet little sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Sigyn’s hands moved to grip his shoulders, her nails digging in.

Loki hummed in response and kissed down from her mouth, along her jaw, sucking at her pulse point on his way to her collarbone. He nipped at smooth skin, enjoying the hitch in her breathing and the way her hands tightened on his shoulders. They were both breathing hard by the time he made his way back to her lips.

After several moments of frantic kissing, Sigyn pulled back, eyes dilated and cheeks flushed. “I…I wasn’t planning on doing that tonight.”

Loki took a step back, mostly to keep himself from kissing her again. “I’m sorry if you regret it.”

“I don’t,” she said quickly. “Loki, you are kind and patient, but I’m still—we’re still very young. When we were first married, you asked me what I wanted, and I didn’t know. I still don’t know, even after a decade.”

“I understand.”

She sighed and turned away from him, letting the dress fall away and pool at her feet. Loki gritted his teeth together and forced himself to turn around and make his way back to the couch.

He wanted her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything. He wanted to touch her, taste her, wanted to bury his face between her thighs and make her moan loud enough to wake the whole palace. He’d never felt this way before, not about the brief liaisons he’d had before their marriage, not about anyone.

It was strange, but he knew then and there that he would do anything for her. If Sigyn asked him to slay a hundred monsters, if she asked him to bring her the universe’s greatest treasures, he’d do it without hesitation. He would kill for her; he’d die for her. He wondered if that was normal for someone in love.

“Loki?”

Her voice jarred him from his thoughts and he turned to face her, feeling suddenly exhausted from grappling with his emotions and impulses. She had changed into one of her sleeping shifts, her long hair falling down around her shoulders and standing out against her pale skin and the snowy fabric. She was so beautiful it actually physically hurt him.

“Are you alright?” she asked, eyes sad.  

“Yes. Of course.”

“Would…would you hold me while we sleep? I think I’d like to be close to you,” she said shyly.

Affection rushed through him and he undressed quickly, taking off his outer garments but keeping his loose shirt and pants. He kicked off his boots and laid down beside his wife.

She scooted closer and carefully laid her head on his chest. He settled the blankets over them both, relishing the warmth of her body and the joy of holding her close. Her fingers stroked the bared skin at his throat and he let one of his hands come to rest on her shoulder. She sighed and relaxed completely.

_I love you. My heart is utterly and wholly yours. I would wait for you forever, Sigyn._

“Earlier, I said that I still didn’t love you, but I don’t think that was the right way to say it. I don’t love you yet, that’s closer to the truth.”

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, smiling. “I’ll wait.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah. This chapter was being a bitch, no lie. I know where I'm going, but it's so freaking hard to get there. Writing is really hard, guys. Like really hard. Anyway, I took a final this morning and I'm dying. Word of advise, don't stay up all night reading/writing fanfiction when you have an exam the next day. It's a big mistake.


	10. Weight of Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could feel Loki’s eyes on me, feel his pride that I was holding my own against one of Asgard’s best. And I knew that Thor was frowning, the likelihood that I’d beat his friend growing with each passing moment. After all, I was faster than Sif and I’d trained to fight with cold rationality and not to be goaded on.

Sweat trickled between my breasts, poured down my back, made my hair stick to my neck and face. My shirt was dark with it, but I ignored the discomfort in favor of figuring out how to bring Sif down. Spring Weaver’s blade shimmered in the bright sun, the emerald at its hilt casting a circle of green shadow whenever it caught the light.

Sif was panting, her dark hair slick with sweat and her eyes narrowed in ire. She gripped her battle-axe with white knuckles as we circled each other. There was a bruise blooming on her arm where I’d hit her with the flat of my blade—harder than I’d intended, but softer than she’d deserved. I could tell by the stubborn clench of her jaw that I’d probably have to break a bone or knock her out to win the fight.

I could feel Loki’s eyes on me, feel his pride that I was holding my own against one of Asgard’s best. And I knew that Thor was frowning, the likelihood that I’d beat his friend growing with each passing moment. After all, I was faster than Sif and I’d trained to fight with cold rationality and not to be goaded on.

Freyr and I both possessed the Berserker gift—the ability to fight with tireless fury in an almost trance-like state. It was useful in the heat of battle, but also incredibly dangerous. Freyr had trained me every day for eighty years to control my baser urges, the animalistic instincts and the wrathful strength. If I let myself succumb to the frenzy, even for a second, the consequences could be dire. I’d only entered the trance once—I was determined that it would never happen again.

I didn’t particularly like to fight—I was by no means a traditional warrior—but I despised Sif. This fight had been a long time coming.

She lunged, axe swinging and shield up. I dodged her swing and knocked my shield into hers. My feet were firmly planted; hers were not. She hit the ground with a snarl and was up in another moment.

“You’re going to regret that, Princess,” she hissed.

I smiled at her. “I doubt it.”

With a wordless cry, she charged me. I danced out of her way and she skidded to a stop, dust swirling around her feet. She charged again. This time steel rang against steel, the force of her blow jarring my arm. She was stronger than me, but only by a little. I had more grace. I fought like I was dancing; she fought like she was a bull.

I gritted my teeth and moved back a pace. I let her chase me, let her wear herself out, always charging with all her strength. She was getting tired—I could tell. Her shield was drooping and her grip on her weapon was too tight. If I could get behind her, I could win.

I feinted to the left and she swung at the place she thought I’d be. Her axe bit empty air. I slid behind her, ramming my shield into her back. She went to her knees with a grunt and I touched the tip of my sword to the space between her shoulder blades.

“Do you yield?” My heart was pounding with adrenaline and my voice was harsh in my ears.

Sif ground her teeth together, shoulders stiff with rage, and didn’t answer.

I pressed Spring Weaver harder between her shoulder blades, through her leather vest, to her skin. Blood welled up and she winched.

“Do you yield?” I asked again.

“Yes,” she snarled. “I yield.”

I took several steps back from her and sheathed my sword. I turned to Loki and grinned. His eyes were alight with satisfaction as he returned my smile. Thor looked less than pleased, his mouth pressed into a thin line and his face stormy. I suspected this victory would be a double-edged sword.

“Well done, wife,” Loki said as I left the training area.

“Why thank you, husband,” I responded, letting him kiss my cheek and tuck a stray lock of hair back behind my ear.

I wound my arm through his and let him escort me through the winding halls of the palace back to our room. Slowly, the leftover adrenaline of the fight left me and I almost felt bad for Sif. I’d quite thoroughly humiliated her. After all, most of Asgard believed me to be a pampered, prim little princess who hid behind magic and morality. But I’d just defeated one of their finest warriors in single combat without earning a single scratch.

“It was unwise of Sif to challenge you,” Loki said quietly, interrupting my thoughts.

“True. But I could have been less spiteful in beating her. She’ll never like me now.”

My husband snorted. “You’re both terribly stubborn and opinionated,” he pointed out. “And you were raised very differently. Sif has had to fight and claw her way to where she is. Meanwhile you…”

“Were handed everything on a silver platter. I suppose you’re right.”

He gave me a sidelong glance. “Did you want her to like you?”

I shrugged. “I’m lonely here. I’ll always be a foreign princess, no matter how long I live in Asgard. To be honest, I think you and your mother are my only true friends.”

“Thor likes you well enough. He admires your strength and your conviction, though I imagine he’d like you more if you didn’t disagree with everything he says.”

I laughed. “But he’s such fun to disagree with.”

Loki smirked. “It’s good then that you’re married to me and not him, isn’t it?” he said, closing the door behind us.

“It certainly is,” I agreed, unbuckling my sword-belt and then yanking off my boots.

My back was to him, but I could feel the weight of Loki’s gaze as I pulled my shirt over my head and unwound the cloth around my breasts. We’d seen each other naked by now, having lived together for almost thirteen years, but Loki usually turned away or closed his eyes when I undressed. Not today.

I slipped out of my pants and, naked, began to unbraid my hair. It felt heavier than usual, sweat-soaked as it was. I took up my silver comb and ran it through my hair, wincing as it caught the tangles. Loki, silent, watched me, but I didn’t feel self-conscious. Just powerful—that even after a grueling fight I was desirable enough that he couldn’t take his eyes away. I liked it when he looked at me, more than I’d ever thought I would.

I looked coyly over my shoulder, took in his wide eyes and the expression of rapt desire on his face. “Are you just going to look?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Loki and Sigyn's relationship is a teenager! Time flies when you're semi-immortal beings slowly falling in love after an arranged marriage. There will probably be sex soon. I'm not sure. I will develop Sigyn's friendship with Thor soon too. I promise. Right now I'm focusing on building the love between Loki and Sigyn, though. Be patient.


	11. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you just going to look?”
> 
> He was sitting on the bed, flushed and wanting, his hands gripping the mattress so hard his knuckles were white. “Do you want me to do more than look, Sigyn?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is sex here. Be warned.

“Are you just going to look?”

He was sitting on the bed, flushed and wanting, his hands gripping the mattress so hard his knuckles were white. “Do you want me to do more than look, Sigyn?” His voice was rough and low and it sent a shiver down my spine.

_Yes. No. I don’t know. I want everything, but I want to be free. I want you, but I’m not sure if I love you. Can I even tell the difference between desire and love? I’ve never loved anyone romantically. I’ve never wanted someone like this._

I turned completely towards him, warmth curling low in my stomach. “If I said yes, what would you do?” _Why do I always answer questions with questions? What is wrong with me?_

Loki stood. “I’d kiss you breathless, throw you on the bed, and bury my face between your thighs. I’d make you come again and again, using only my mouth and my fingers. I’d pleasure you until you couldn’t do anything but moan my name. And I’d make you moan so loud, all of Asgard would hear you and know that I’m yours and you’re _mine_.”

I swallowed hard, wanting desperately for him to do all those things. With the blood rushing in my ears and Loki’s lust-dark eyes devouring me, it was hard to remember why I wasn’t fucking him. I wanted to, quite badly.

 _Jump! Let yourself fall! Fuck the consequences, you can worry about them tomorrow. You want him and he wants you. You’ll have thousands of years to fall in love; it might come easier if you’re lovers. Take what you want_.

“So, do it then,” I challenged.

In an instant, his arms were around me and his lips met mine. His hands were cool, as they always were, but his lips were warm and he tasted like mint and snow. I moaned into the kiss, clutching at his shirt, wanting—needing—him closer.

He ran his fingers through my hair, kissing down my neck, sucking marks into my pale skin. “I love your hair,” he murmured against my skin. “And your breasts.” He took a nipple into his mouth and sucked, my nails digging into his shoulders. I arched into him, whimpering and unable to form words.

Loki growled and hefted me into his arms, his mouth coming back to mine. He kissed me hard and I wrapped my legs around him, twining sinuous as a snake. And then suddenly he pitched forward and my back hit the pillows. I wriggled my hips against his and giggled at his broken groan.

“You’re a horror, my love. What man could possibly resist you?” he said, breath hot in my ear.

“I don’t want you to resist me,” I sighed, carding my fingers through his dark hair as he trailed his mouth over my chest.

He continued down, nipping at my stomach, just below my bellybutton, and throwing my legs over his shoulders. He traced the seam of my hip with his tongue, laved at the skin of my inner things, and then stopped to breathe me in. I was almost self-conscious as I raised myself on my elbows to look down at him, but the intensity in his eyes halted any fear I might have had in its tracks.

“I have never wanted anything more than I want you,” he confessed, the bare honesty in his voice making my heart ache. “I will never stop wanting you, Sigyn.” And then he bent his head and buried his face in my cunt.

I shuddered at the first lick of his tongue; his mouth was so much hotter than his hands—which grasped at my hips to keep me steady. He groaned again, pressing his tongue into my center, desperately tasting. I felt as though I would burst into flame.

He drew back, just for a moment, and whispered, “You are the best thing I have ever tasted,” and then his mouth was on my clit and I lost any semblance of thought.

My back arched off the bed and I couldn’t help but moan as he slipped a finger inside me, curling it just so. Heat surged through me. He slipped another finger in, curling that one too. He sucked at my clit, teeth scraping lightly, and it felt like lightning struck—like I was made of starlight and the universe was wheeling around me—and I cried out as ecstasy overcame me. 

I came back to myself slowly, my heart pounding and my breath coming in gasps. Loki folded his arms over my stomach and rested his chin on them. His mouth and chin were glazed with my pleasure and he was licking his lips with no small amount of satisfaction.

“And how was that, my love?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Better than I could have hoped. Tell whoever taught you she did well. Deliver her my most sincere gratitude.”

Loki sat up, still miraculously dressed. “Do you mind that I’ve been with other women?”

“No. The more experience, the better one is.” I stretched, gloriously relaxed and wondering if he could be coaxed into shedding his clothing. “I’m no blushing maid. Does that bother you?”

He shook his head. “It might bother some, but it doesn’t matter to me.”

I grinned and held my arms out to him. “Come here and kiss me, husband.”

He was all too happy to comply, pressing his mouth to mine enthusiastically. I could taste the strange salty-sweet tang of myself on his lips, and felt the heat return to my belly. I wanted him inside me. _Now._

“Loki, sweetheart, take your clothes off.” 

He smirked against my lips. “Eager, aren’t we?”

I raked my fingernails down his back and moved my hips against his. “What gave it away?”

He laughed and pulled back a bit to get his shirt off. And then he leaned down to kiss me again, skin blessedly cool against the feverish heat of my own. I sighed into his mouth, desire swirling through me.

“I want you,” I moaned, breathless.

“Not yet,” he whispered back. “I just want to make you feel good. There’s no rush.” He settled, once again, with his shoulders between my legs and his mouth close to my center. “And I’ve only made you come once.”

“Please,” I begged, desperate as I’d never been before.

“Patience, beloved. Trust me.” His breath stirred my damp curls and I closed my eyes, trembling in anticipation—

And then someone began to pound on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first sex scene I've ever really written, so sorry. I'm doing my very best. Sex is really weird to write about. Like really weird.


	12. Interlude: The Giantess

On a planet covered in ice, a young woman stands tall and viciously beautiful. She’s dangerous, beyond dangerous, and she has big plans. She’s going to destroy Asgard and Odin Allfather, and she’s going to use his own family to do it. Not Thor, because people would probably notice if he started acting strange. But not many Asgardians care for the second prince or his foreign wife, something she has every intention of taking advantage of. Not yet, but soon.

The giantess—though she’s rather small because of her mother’s blood—is the most powerful sorceress Jotunheim has ever produced. This might be because her father was their strongest warrior and her mother was a Light-Elf who hated Asgard beyond all logic. Or perhaps it’s simply because she was destined to be. She was raised, after all, to despise the Aesir and pray for the coming of Ragnarok—in which she would play a part. She was the beginning of the end.  

She remembers the lullabies her mother crooned to her in the icy darkness, songs about a serpent as big as a planet with enough venom to fill an ocean, a wolf who would swallow all the stars, a girl who was neither living nor dead but somehow both. Her monstrous brood, who had yet to be born.

But they would be born soon. And the chaos they would wreak! Her children would sweep across the universe, bringing death and destruction wherever they went. They would raze Asgard, and from the ashes the giantess would rebuild. She would reshape reality to her will.

Angrboda of Jotunheim smiled up at the sky, the cold winds howling around her like the wolf-son she would one-day birth. She was going to decimate Odin. Him and everything he held dear. And then she would watch and laugh as her son devoured him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this chapter is really short. Believe me, it serves a point. I'm building up to stuff.


	13. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolving issues one traumatic piece of backstory at a time

Loki swore. Loudly and very explicitly. He continued to curse as he stalked toward the door—I scrambled to cover myself with a blanket—and wrenched it open.

“What do you want?” he snarled, half-dressed, his hair a wreck from my fingers running through it.

Thor stood at our threshold. He took in his brother first—mussed and shirtless—and then my clothes scattered across the floor, and me, very obviously naked, covered only by a blanket. He flushed, contrite to have interrupted what he knew was the first instance of our intimacy. He said nothing, trapped in embarrassed silence.

“Thor, what do you want? If you don’t tell me, I’m closing the fucking door,” Loki growled, wrathful.

“Our father wants to speak with you,” he stuttered, face vermilion. “But as you are…otherwise engaged, I can tell him you’ll come see him in the morning.”

Loki cursed again, all gritted teeth and tight shoulders. “You know father; he doesn’t like waiting. Better to go now, if he’s angry, rather than face him in the morning.”

He turned from the door and came back to the bed. He pulled on his boots and a shirt, then leaned down and kissed me hard. “We’ll continue this later,” he promised, and then he was gone, the door closing behind him.

My face was hot, and I was trapped between embarrassment that Thor had practically walked in on us and frustration at being interrupted. I let loose a deranged giggle and flopped back onto the pillows. I felt a little drunk, endorphins from my climax swirling through me.

 Finally, when I figured my legs would support me, I stood and made my way to the washroom. I had always loved it, the low ceiling to trap the steam, the large, intricately tiled bathing pool, the sweet-smelling candles set in the walls that lit when I entered and never dripped wax. The pool was already filled, rose petals drifting across the surface of the steaming water. I slid into the water with a sigh.

The petals glided past as I scrubbed myself clean with a cloth and combed a fragrant oil through my hair. I felt better clean, as though I could think more clearly. So much had happened; I could barely make sense of it all.

_I beat Sif in a duel. That’s simple, though she might be even more cross than usual for the next few days—and her sulking doesn’t worry me in the slightest. But Loki…what was I thinking? I told him I didn’t want to fuck someone I didn’t love, but I let him pleasure me. I wanted to do more. Do I love him? How am I supposed to know? I’m attracted to him, certainly, as he is young and handsome. I find him charming and he makes me laugh. We’re friends, aren’t we? But I don’t think it’s love yet, at least for me. I know how he feels, I see it in his eyes and feel it in his touches. The times we’ve kissed, I’ve tasted it on his tongue. He loves me, that’s why he waits for me to make the first move. He doesn’t want to risk scaring me away._

“Oh, Loki,” I sighed, affection and sadness mingling. “Why don’t I love you yet?”

I sank beneath the surface of the water, my hair floating around my face. The silence filled my ears and I breathed out a stream of bubbles, desperately wishing that I knew how I felt. I wanted to understand myself, to know what it was that I was feeling.

I left the pool after several minutes, dried myself, and pulled on a shift to sleep in. It was rather late, and Loki and I had missed dinner. We’d been focused on other things, after all.

What had happened between us was not my first experience with a man—with anyone. I’d kissed others before, boys and girls, in my adolescent years. As I’d told Loki, I was no virgin. I had genuinely believed Theoric loved me, but unfortunately, I’d been wrong. Maybe it was him, the memories of him, that haunted me and kept me from moving forward. I knew I was right to be wary.

But Loki was not Theoric. He was my husband and he loved me…didn’t he?

 

“Sigyn?”

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking blearily up at my husband. “You’re back.”

He smiled, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. Gently, he maneuvered us so that we were both on our sides, my back to his chest. As he had before, he pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of my neck. “Sorry to wake you.”

“I don’t mind,” I assured him, relaxing into the comfort of his embrace. “What did your father want?”

Loki muttered something low and angry into my hair.

I snorted. “Sweetheart, you need to be more articulate.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“As you wish.”

He was silent, his breath stirring my hair, his arm a cool weight across my waist. I wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling. I knew, though, that if he was to trust me with his innermost thoughts and secrets, then I would have to trust him with mine.

“His name was Theoric…the boy I once loved—thought I loved. It was before I could tell when people were lying. He was handsome and charming; he swept me off my feet easily. I gave myself to him—lonely girl that I was, I was eager to believe that he loved me. He didn’t, of course. I was just a conquest.”

His hand flexed where it rested on my stomach. “What happened?”

“I found him with another girl. I was furious…and I lost control. It was the first time I went into the rage-trance, the first time my Berserker-gift revealed itself. I killed him, ripped him apart, and would have done the same to the girl had my uncle not stopped me. I’d never killed anything before; his blood stained my hands for weeks, I couldn’t get it out from under my fingernails. His body looked like some wild animal had been at it.”

“Sigyn…”

“I trust you, Loki, that’s why I’m telling you this. I want you to know me, all of me, the light and the dark.”  

“I’m sorry he hurt you. If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself,” Loki growled.

“It’s in the past; he doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters now is us.”

I could feel him smile into my hair, and he pressed himself impossibly closer to me. “I love you,” he whispered.

Wrapped safe in his arms, I slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I'm the worst. I'm so sorry about the wait. It's been weird. I just started a new term in college and before that I was have terrible writers block (plus i got lowkey addicted to world of warcraft). Anyway, conflict is coming soon. Who's ready to suffer?


	14. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready to fucking suffer? 
> 
> *insert maniacal cackling*

Unfortunately, the peace and joy between my husband and I did not last, though, by Yggdrasil, I wish it had. It would have saved me a great deal of pain and heartbreak. But nothing lasts forever.

“You heard what they called me,” I snarled at Loki, hands clenched so tightly my nails drew blood from my palms.

“Calm down,” he said, voice smooth and too calm.

“‘Whore-daughter!’ That’s what the people of Asgard whisper behind my back! ‘Foreign Slut,’ they say, and you do nothing to stop it.”

He took a deep breath. “I cannot control what my people think, Sigyn.”

“But you can defend me,” I hissed. “You swore to be the shield at my back; you are my husband!”

“I know you’re upset—”

“I hate it here, Loki. I hate your people and their opinions and the traditions and the way they look down on everyone else!”

“Then go home,” he yelled.

I grabbed the pitcher of water from the vanity and hurled it at him. He dodged just in time and it shattered against the far wall. “You know I can’t!”

He threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine! If you’re going to act like a spoilt child and throw things, then I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I’d rather you didn’t slit my throat in the middle of the night.” And with that, he stalked out of the room, slamming the doors behind him for good measure.

I threw myself onto the bed and screamed into a pillow; letting some of the frustration out, even in such a muffled way, helped enormously. I didn’t know why Asgardian opinions suddenly mattered so much to me when they hadn’t before, but I was still furious that my husband hadn’t defended my honor. I knew Loki loved me—he said it often enough—but I wondered sometimes if that love was enough. Though we were somewhat similar people, we’d had vastly different upbringings. And I still didn’t know if I loved him back.

I thought I did, but I was still cautious and uncertain. It frustrated him, I thought, that I couldn’t return his feelings. He was willing to wait, but he didn’t particularly want to. He was a passionate, deeply feeling person by nature, though he pretended not to be, and my continued hesitance tore at his already precarious self-esteem.

Some days it seemed that the distance between us would never be bridged. One step forward, two steps back, and all that. I cared for Loki, truly, but he was just so frustrating! I always defended him, spoke up when the warriors looked down on him for his proficiency at magic. When people compared him to Thor, I was there to ease his malcontent. Was it too much to ask that he do the same? I knew he was trying, but some days I felt lonely beyond all explanation.

I curled up in the middle of our bed and spent the night wrapped in heavy silence. I had never been more desperately homesick.

 

I felt better the next morning. Still irritated with Loki, but ready to resolve our differences and apologize for throwing a pitcher of water at him—not my proudest moment. I dressed carefully, choosing an emerald green dress with gold accents, and leaving my hair down—as I knew he liked—pulled back from my face with two gold and obsidian combs that he had given me. Suitably armed with sweet words, I left our chamber to seek him out.

He was nowhere to be found. I searched the palace library, the gardens, the training arena—wandered the maze of palace halls until noon. Eventually, I admitted defeat and went to the one person I was certain knew where he was.

 

Frigga was sitting at her loom, hair swept into an elegant up-so, humming as she wove. “Daughter!” she said happily, giving me a warm smile. “We didn’t see you at breakfast. Are you well?”

“Well enough, my lady. I was wondering if you’d seen Loki; we had a fight last night and I haven’t seen him since.” I looked at the floor, not wanting to see the disappointment in her eyes.

“Sigyn…Loki’s gone.”

My head snapped up. “Gone? What do you mean?”

“He and Thor and their friends left Asgard early this morning to go hunting in one of the other realms. I assumed you knew.”

I bit down hard on my lip to keep myself from cursing in front of the Queen. “I didn’t,” I said stiffly. “If you’ll excuse me, my lady.” I inclined my head and slipped from the room with as much dignity as I could summon.

 

For the next week, solitude and silence were my only companions. I drifted through the palace like a ghost, spending most of my time in the far corners of the library or the gardens. That Loki had left without telling me was a shock, to be sure. And he’d had the audacity to call me a spoilt child the night before! How spiteful does one have to be to leave one’s wife alone without a goodbye? When Loki returned—if he returned, some small part of me whispered—he’d be lucky if I didn’t stab him. He’d be lucky if I kissed him within the next fifty years.

 

“Princess?”

I looked up from the text I’d been staring unseeingly at for the past few minutes to meet the eyes of a beautiful young woman.  Her dark hair fell in waves around her shoulders and her eyes were a clear, icy blue. Her dress was cut to display her collarbone and a great deal of creamy skin. As she smiled at me, I wondered how long it had been since I’d had a real conversation with someone.

“Please call me Sigyn,” I said automatically. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind some company. It’s a little warm today and this tree provides the perfect amount of shade. Not to mention, it’s much quieter in this corner of the gardens.”

“It’s perfectly alright. Please sit.”

She sank gracefully to the ground beside me, leaning back against the brown bark of the willow tree I was sitting under. “My name is Angrboda,” she offered.

“It’s lovely to meet you. Are you new to Asgard?”

“Yes. I’m from Alfheim; I’ve come to research history, as Asgard has one of the best libraries in the nine realms and I’ve already been to Vanaheim.”

“How do you like it here so far?”

Angrboda shrugged. “I much prefer Vanaheim, to be honest. The people are much kinder and the food more flavorful.”

I sighed. “I miss it. I haven’t been home since I was married.”

“I’m so sorry. I know what it’s like to be homesick, and I’ve heard how the Aesir speak of you. It’s shameful, the way you’re treated. You—the daughter of a queen, the heir to one of the most powerful men in the realms!”

“It can’t be helped,” I said bitterly. “They will say what they wish; there’s no one here to defend me, after all.”

Angrboda turned to me and took my hands in hers. “Someone should,” she announced, her tone earnest. “You don’t deserve what they say.”

“No…I suppose I don’t. I just don’t know what to say to them. If I try to speak up, they’ll just shun me more than they already do. I’m very lonely here,” I confessed.

She frowned. “That sounds miserable. If you wish, I could be your friend. No one as beautiful as you should be lonely, Sigyn.”

Warmth spread through my chest. “I would be honored to have your friendship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! I've finally updated. Yay! Also I saw Thor: Ragnarok with my boyfriend last weekend and it was amazing! I laughed a lot. Hopefully the next chapter will come easier than this one. I've been having some weird writer's block lately, but I'm getting over it.   
> Also if some of the stuff that happened in this chapter seems out of character...it's all part of the plan. Trust me. I probably know what I'm doing.   
> I hope all of you lovely readers are doing well and NOT fighting with the people you love. Comments are appreciated and kudos fill my heart with joy and sunlight.


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